


404: Memorynotfound

by Random_Inked_Thoughts



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, if I do this right everyone goes home happy, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, technically a God AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts
Summary: Tommy was staring at him.“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” George advised the teen, embarrassment slightly flushing his face. He knocked his knuckles across one another lightly just to give his hands something to do.“So you don’t remember me? Or Tubbo?”George shook his head.“Or Dream? Or Sapnap? Or Techno and Phil and Wilbur, and-”“Nothing,” George replied, surprised to find a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I remember that I’m George, but apart from that…” he made a noncommittal, squiggly motion with his hands.-----George wakes up in a random village, no memories of his life up until that point whatsoever. He thinks he's taking it pretty well. Everyone else just wants him back to normal. (ft. pining Dream, protective SBI family dynamic + Ranboo, a smidge of plot, and as many funny and heartfelt moments as I can possibly cram into this thing before I finish it.)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 240





	1. Tubbo

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I've been wanting to write thing for a while, so I'm excited to present the first chapter of 404: Memorynotfound! This thing is based off of the SMP characters, and a fanfiction of the SMP characters, just to clarify. The people in this should roughly share their morals, and hopefully sound like their /rp characters! It's placed in the SMP world, and should roughly follow some of the plotlines provided by the canon. With that all out the way, I hope you enjoy! :D

George woke up in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, next to an unfamiliar boy. Groggily rubbing his eyes, he sat up, letting the soft blue comforter fall. Blinking heavily, he could just barely make out his immediate surroundings; arms, bed, chair. His t-shirt looked almost three sizes too big, the grey material bunching around his middle. 

_Where am I?_

Squinting past the morning sunlight, George took a moment to examine the boy sitting in the chair to his left. He was tall and lanky, with tousled blonde hair that covered his eyes. The boy’s chest rose and fell slightly with every deep breath, and he was drooling a little in his sleep. George frowned. He looked tired, if the dark bags under his eyes were any indication. 

A diamond sword lay across the foot of his bed. George grabbed it without a second thought and headed for the open door, leaving the strange room and the strange boy behind him. It was the first thing that felt remotely right, and he hefted its weight for a moment before carrying on. The grip was old leather, worn down but clearly taken care of. 

The people of the town gave him strange looks as he passed, from excitement to confusion to raw, unfiltered awe. They all looked the exact same, a copy pasted face on a different body. George could feel his stomach twist, and he clutched the hilt of his stolen sword a little tighter as he walked. 

Everything felt so old, so new. Wandering from store to store, house to house, George tried to find something, anything, that he recognized. The curling feeling in his stomach was fear, he came to realize. As far as realizations go, it wasn’t a pleasant one. 

The houses were adorned with red banners, and a flickering flame insignia filled the streets. Most, if not all of the villagers were clad in reds and blacks, but the most unsettling part of the village was the iron statue in the center of the town’s square, depicting a mighty warrior with long hair and a fierce grin. Gifts and offerings lay around the statue, flowers and talismans. 

A weird feeling tugged at George’s gut. He couldn’t place the warrior’s face, but he should be able to, shouldn’t he? His breathing quickened for a moment. Why couldn’t he place the statue’s face? He was sure he had seen it before. 

George could feel his heartbeat quicken, brain working overdrive to try and figure out exactly what piece slotted into the gap in his mind. His eyes darted around nervously, acutely aware that all eyes were on him at this moment. 

The people around him were beginning to blur, their voices and muttering overlapping. George stumbled back a couple steps, until he felt the cold kiss of stone on his back, and his knees buckled. 

“Stay back,” he warned, voice barely louder than the villager’s muttering. His sword wobbled dangerously in his hands. 

His knees bloodied as they hit the ground. He barely felt the sting. 

“You’re up!” 

The voice cut through his thoughts like butter. George flinched, looking up to find a tiny child squirming through the crowd, pushing people aside. Unlike the way they had parted before him, the kid had to force his way through the people, huffing slightly. 

The boy came to a stop in front of him, beaming at him with something akin to relief on his face. His brown hair was messy and curly, and two curved horns were nestled in his dark locks. More importantly, he looked nothing like the rest of the people of the town. Panting slightly, he gave George a toothy grin. “You’ve been sleeping it off for days now, we were starting to get a little worried you wouldn’t ever wake up!” 

_What do I say to that?_ George just nodded at him, unsure. The villagers swarmed around them, a mess of green eyes and oversized noses. Their stares were oddly judgemental. 

At his reaction, the boy’s smile faltered slightly. “George? You- are you doing alright there, big man?” 

Looking around him, George shrunk a little further into the wall behind him. Finally locking eyes with the boy in front of him, watching the confusion and worry pool in his big brown eyes, George let out a rattling, shaky breath. “Who _are_ you?” he whispered, watching the boy’s hesitant grin slide off his face. 

“Don’t joke around, George,” the boy said, sounding like he was trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re not as funny as Dream thinks you are.”

George just shook his head, as if to clear it. “I’m not joking around.” The people around him were stirring, mumbling. Their gazes had turned almost predatory. 

The brunet glanced at the surrounding villagers warily, before grabbing George’s hand. He looked deathly serious. “If you’re telling the truth, you need to come with me right now.” 

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but George allowed himself to be yanked to his feet, the child all but dragging him through the crowd of people. This time, they parted before them, allowing George to stumble awkwardly after the strange boy with the horns. 

Tubbo, as he had introduced himself, dragged him out of the village immediately, not even speaking again until they were deep within the spruce forest. “You really don’t remember anything?” 

George looked down at him. “My name is George. I don’t live in that village.” He hesitated. “I think.” 

Tubbo just huffed out a breath. “Well, at least that’s something. I suppose you could have forgotten walking, or talking. As for where you live, you’re right. You don’t live in that particular village, you live in the Dream SMP territory, George, with the rest of us.”

As he looked around them, George nodded, distracted. None of what the child said sounded familiar in the slightest. A wall was visible on the horizon, shimmering a hazy black in the dying sunlight. There was so much he wanted to understand, bubbling and simmering inside of him. He kept a lid on it, looking around for something, anything, that he recognized. 

“You know,” Tubbo finally said, “You’re taking this rather well.” He sounded suspicious. 

George glanced over at him. “Should I be reacting differently?” he asked. 

Tubbo bit his lip. “Honestly? I’m not sure,” he confessed with a sigh. “You were always so closed off, no one could ever get through to you except for Dream and-” his eyes widened. “Dream.” 

“You mentioned him earlier. Who’s Dream?” George inquired, feeling a sense of peace overtake him as the moon began to rise in the sky, the orb shining a pure, bright white. Everything around him seemed heightened now, the bugs chirped a little louder, the wind rustled a little more, the entire forest seemed alive with an energy he hadn’t felt until now. 

“Who’s Dream? Oh, who’s Dream?” Tubbo muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair. “Oh this is bloody brilliant, you don’t even know who Dream is.” He looked over at George. “Dream was the one who was supposed to be watching you while you slept everything off.” 

George frowned at that, thoughts doubling back to the sight of the blonde boy by his bedside. “He was supposed to be watching me?” 

Tubbo nodded wordlessly. “We all wanted to take shifts, but _no,_ he said, _he would handle it._ Was he missing when you woke up?” 

“I think he was asleep,” George replied cautiously. “I took his sword.” 

“Y-you took his…” Tubbo let out a bark of a laugh, shaking his head. “He’s going to wake up in a village, at night, with no sword.” 

George cocked his head, thumbing at the hilt of the weapon thoughtfully. What would leaving Dream without his sword do? Maybe the villagers would harass him. “Oops.” 

Tubbo just waved him off. “Naw, he’ll be fine, it’s just funny. I can’t believe he fell asleep, though, that’s supposed to be your job, big man!” He poked at George’s side with his elbow, as though this was some sort of inside joke between the two of them. 

Crickets chirped. George stared at him. 

“Right.” Tubbo nodded awkwardly. “Memory wipe. Okay, so you know how everyone in that village looked more or less… completely identical?” 

“What the _fuck_ is that about?” The question bubbled out of George’s mouth before he could help himself, but Tubbo only let out another laugh. 

“We’re not sure, honestly. They’ve been around longer than we have.”

“And how long have... we been here?” George asked him. 

“It varies,” Tubbo replied. “But you and Dream were the very first.” 

_Dream again. His name…_ George’s head hurt. “How does it vary?”

Tubbo let out another half sigh, tilting his head. “Well, to the best of our knowledge, when you spawn into this world, some people spawn in as villagers, but some people spawn in… different.”

“Different?” George pressed. 

“Stronger. We can do things faster, better, we’re smarter. We all have our own little quirks as well, abilities that they just don’t possess, things they don’t have the capabilities to do. We look different, not like the rest of them. We don’t age much, but then again, I don’t ever see them aging either. They kind of worship us.” Tubbo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, wrinkling his nose. “That’s apparently why you and Dream moved away, made the Dream SMP territory.”

“They worship you?” George focused on that part. One strange, world altering statement at a time. 

“Well, less so me, but yeah. That village we took you to so you could heal? They worship Sapnap. He saved them from a raid or something. To them, we’re gods. We’re so much further ahead of them that they couldn’t even comprehend us being mortal.” 

George sucked in a quick breath. “And are we? Gods?” 

Tubbo’s laugh was stale, and he gazed up at the open moon not with the same adoration George did, but with hatred. “Not even close.” 

He nodded, a strange feeling twisting his insides into knots. He felt like he was missing a piece, hell, he felt like he was missing the entire puzzle. He was just sitting there staring at the picture on the empty box and wondering where all of the pieces had gone. Usually, he’d find an end piece, make the outline, work his way in from there. Now? He wasn’t sure. 

“You know, I did try my best to heal you,” Tubbo said, regret lacing his words. 

“What?” George asked him, looking back over at him. 

“While you were sleeping. I mean, we have potions for that, but you were already knocked out, and it had been so long... We were worried.” Tubbo sighed. “Usually, when you get hurt too badly, you can just sleep it off, regenerate. It’s kind of one of your ‘things.’ This time was different, though… We couldn’t wake you up. Dream wanted me to try, everyone wanted me to try.” 

“Oh,” George replied dumbly. He couldn’t remember any of that. Obviously. “So healing is one of your things.” 

Tubbo nodded cheerfully. “Only surface level wounds though, physical stuff. I’m no good with anything up here.” He tapped the top of his head. “People apparently pray to me for healing and new life, as well as about interpersonal relationship growth.” He laughed, kicking a tiny stone at George’s almost impressed look. “Yeah, I’ve got all the bases covered pretty well.”

“What about me?” George asked him. “What do the villagers…?” He trailed off.

“What sort of god do they consider you?” Tubbo filled in quietly, and he nodded. “Honestly? Mostly they pray to you for calm nights, good sleep, and dreams. You’re their Midnight King.” 

“They pray to me for dreams?” George was doing his best to connect the dots, but he felt like he was holding a string made from spider silk, it kept breaking whenever he tried to stretch it. 

Tubbo nodded. “You’re good with dreams. It’s another one of your things.” 

He didn’t elaborate, and George didn’t ask him to. They walked in silence a moment longer, listening to the sounds of the night. The walls were getting closer. They looked taller up close.

“So what else can you do?” He blurted out, eager to fill the silence. The young boy startled slightly, skipping a step. “Sorry,” George muttered. “Curious.”

“As anyone would be in your situation,” Tubbo replied with a small smile. “It’s probably for the best that I was the one to find you first, I tend to be a lot more level headed than, well, anyone else here, really.” 

George gave him a strangled smile. 

“As to answer your question, apart from the whole healing thing, I can talk to nonhuman creatures sometimes, and I can speed up and slow down growth.” 

“Hence the villagers considering you the god of healing and new life,” George guessed. 

“Yeah, I get a lot of farmers and medics praying to me,” Tubbo replied with a grin. 

“That makes sense,” George replied, “but I don’t see how the whole friendship thing fits in.” 

There was a bit of a pause. Tubbo sighed a little, eyes drifting away. “Life isn’t the only thing that needs healing sometimes,” he finally settled on. 

There was a story there, and George probably already knew what it was, which was the most infuriating part. “Right,” he replied, frowning a bit at his own measured reaction. Apart from the slight scare in the village, he’d been taking this whole thing surprisingly well. 

“Right-o, we’re here!” Tubbo announced, changing the topic. As they walked through the big entryway, George inhaled quickly. 

Where the village had been simple, unified, bland, this place was practically the exact opposite. Sprawling buildings of all shapes, sizes, and colors went on as far as he could see, and then kept going. The cacophony of disorganized order worked in the strangest way, a disjointed mishmash of styles and time periods. “Woah.” 

Tubbo laughed at the look on his face. “I was like that my first time, too,” he admitted. “You actually were there when they showed me around. You’ll get used to it.”

“Did I spend a lot of time here?” George breathed out, craning his neck to look at what appeared to be a full on UFO scraping the skyline. 

Tubbo’s smile faltered for a minute before it was back full force. “You lived here, George. This was your home. It’s all of our homes.” 

A small, blonde blur darted past George and tackled Tubbo, sending him crashing to the ground with a surprised laugh. 

“Tubbo!” It shrieked, drawing out the “o” sound. “What is up, big man?” 

“Tommy!” Tubbo greeted him just as enthusiastically. “You’re here! I didn’t realize you guys were back!” 

“Yeah, Phil didn’t really tell me why, but we’re visiting for a bit!” Tommy’s eyes then flicked over to George and he scrambled up off the ground, a devilish look crossing his face. “Gogy!” 

George was already stumbling back, away from the child. He wanted no part of this. “No, no, no, no-“ 

Tommy moved to tackle him, but Tubbo grabbed him by the green bandanna around his neck, tugging him back. 

“Hey, what the fuck? Not cool, dude!” Tommy pouted, overexaggerated. “I always give Gogy a big hug and a kiss on the cheek when I see him!” 

George’s face twisted up in disgust. 

“Tommy,” Tubbo’s tone was serious. “We have a problem.” 

George watched as the look on Tommy’s face faded, a flicker of something unplaceable in his eye. “What?” The blonde boy asked. 

“George…” Tubbo hesitated. “Is a little discombobulated.” 

“Why? What happened?” Tommy looked over at George, who was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You’ve been gone a while,” Tubbo said regretfully. “You missed a lot. I’ve missed you a lot.” 

“What did I miss?” Tommy asked. Then, “I’ve missed you a lot too.” 

“Why did he leave?” George echoed.

Tommy gave him a weird look.

“Something happened to George while you were away, and he went to sleep it off, like usual,” Tubbo began to explain.

“Well, seeing as he’s standing in front of me now, I’m assuming it was successful,” Tommy said, looking him up and down. 

“Not exactly-” Tubbo replied. 

“Well what do you mean, ‘not exactly’? He’s standing there, isn’t he?”

“I feel like I would have remembered someone as annoying as Tommy,” George said to Tubbo with a sigh.

Tommy turned to him with an offended scoff. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused,” he replied. 

  
Tubbo was stifling laughter. “Tommy, please. George can’t remember anything.” 

That put a real damper on the conversation. George’s, and even Tubbo’s smiles faded slightly as the real issue at hand came into play. 

The blonde sounded uncertain. “Like… anything anything?” 

“Anything anything,” Tubbo clarified with a nod. 

Tommy was staring at him. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” George advised the teen, embarrassment slightly flushing his face. He knocked his knuckles across one another lightly just to give his hands something to do. 

“So you don’t remember me? Or Tubbo?” 

George shook his head. 

“Or Dream? Or Sapnap? Or Techno and Phil and Wilbur, and-”

“Nothing,” George replied, surprised to find a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I remember that I’m George, but apart from that…” he made a noncommittal, squiggly motion with his hands. 

“Wow,” Tommy breathed out, eyes wide. For once, he sat in silence, processing. George had achieved the unachievable; he'd shut Tommy up. 

“Yeah, I’d say he’s handling it pretty well,” Tubbo said with a nod. 

“Dude, if I were you, I’d be like, freaking out right about now,” Tommy said. 

George shrugged again. “Maybe it’s just the kind of person I am?” 

Tommy thought about it for a moment. “Maybe,” he finally agreed. “You’ve always been one for internalizing your freak-outs.” Then, his eyes brightened. “Hey! If you don’t remember anything, that means I get to reuse all of my old jokes on you!” 

“I can’t wait,” George replied dryly, running his fingers through his short hair and locking eyes with Tubbo, who was smiling again. 

“Come on!” Tommy said, “I’ll give you the tour while I’m here, Big Man, we can walk and talk!” 

The teen began walking at a quick pace and after a moment of hesitance, George followed him, falling in line next to Tubbo. 

“Shouldn’t I really be the one giving the tour?” Tubbo asked, “Seeing as, you know, I’m the only one of us who still lives here?” 

“Shut up, Tubbo,” Tommy replied warmly, a big grin stretching across his face. “I’m so much better looking. I’m giving the tour.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes affectionately. “You’re going to miss all of the new stuff,” he protested, no real sway in his words. 

“Impossible. I can’t. Women love me.” Tommy gestured to their right. “So over there you can see the original Church of Prime.” 

“I just don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Tubbo muttered, but he looked to the right with George. 

“Original?” George asked, looking over the purple and white church, admiring the way the light glinted through the stained glass. Bathed in moonlight like this, the whole world was exquisite. 

“Yeah, the first house of worship. We made it as a joke, but the villagers recreated it, redecorated it, you name it. Everyone put their own spin on the design. We accidentally invented religion for them.”

“Oops,” Tubbo chimed in. 

“But do they worship just one god, or do they worship all of you?” George wondered. 

Tommy made a little ‘meh’ sound. “It varies. Depends on who they see the most, and who they need help from the most. It’s kind of weird, I won’t lie.” 

Tubbo nodded. 

“But the rule is no weapons in the church, so unless you want to put that down-” Tommy nodded at the blue blade in George’s hand, “-we’ll just move on.” 

“Let’s move on,” George replied, turning his gaze from the church and back to the worn path below their feet. 

Something was off. Not wrong, just off. He could feel a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. 

Tommy and Tubbo were bickering now, their voices fading slightly as his focus on them dropped away. Very slowly, George turned around. He spotted him immediately. 

The blonde man from earlier that day stood a few paces away, a shaky smile on his face. It took George a moment to realize that his emerald eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and his hands were trembling slightly. 

“Uhh, hi,” George said, looking up at him. His brain was short circuiting, trying to figure out who the man was, why he looked so familiar, how he didn’t know who this person was. The man was important, George was sure of that much. He gulped. He couldn’t remember. _Why couldn’t he remember?_

He felt the closest thing to panic he’d felt since he’d woken up. 

Tubbo and Tommy had stopped talking, voices trailing off into nothing. For a very long time, none of them said anything at all, too hesitant to break the shaky silence that had fallen over the four of them. 

When the man spoke, his voice broke on the first syllable. “Hiya, Georgie,” he croaked out, “It looks like you’ve got my sword there.” 


	2. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I've been SO EXCITED to post this you have no idea. While I'm here, I just wanted to say thank you so much??? for like 100 kudos???? Already??? You guys are amazing and I can't believe the overwhelming positive response to this fic already???? Hopefully I can continue to put out content you guys are excited about! Enjoy! :D

“Dream-“ Tubbo cut in from the sidelines, but he went unnoticed. 

_ Ah, so this is Dream.  _

George let out another shaky breath, eyes locking with Dream’s as he stepped closer. “Sorry,” he replied, not really meaning it. With barely trembling fingers, he offered the sword up, blade pointed toward himself. 

The blonde accepted it, sparks erupting where their fingers brushed against each other. “You’re okay,” he breathed out, looking George up and down, drinking him in like he was a parched man finding water for the first time in weeks. 

“That’s a relative term,” George replied, but then the sword was falling from the other man’s fingers and he was surging forward, wrapping George in a tight hug. 

“I was worried about you, idiot,” Dream murmured from where his face was tucked into George’s neck.

George froze up, joints locking as his brain struggled to identify why he felt so at ease. 

Dream, for what it was worth, seemed to notice something was wrong immediately. He pulled back, holding George at arm’s length, a frown marring his pretty face. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked George, sounding almost accusatory. 

_ Because I don’t know who you are.  _

George blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. 

“Because, obviously I know you can take care of yourself,” Dream continued, backtracking, “and that was never the issue, but George, we were all so worried about you.  _ I  _ was worried about you.” Dream placed special weight in those words, eyes shining with something too deep to speak aloud. “I thought you’d at least wake me up or something! We didn’t even know what happened to you, we just found you like that, knocked out cold! It’s been weeks!” 

“I-“ George’s eyes flicked over to Tubbo for help, but the other boy just directed his own nervous gaze at the ground. 

“George,” Dream repeated himself, voice softer. His hand came out to stroke George’s cheek lightly, his touch electric. “Why do you always run from me?” 

Every single one of his senses heightened, his spine tingling. George scoffed suddenly, tossing off the feather light touch as the words slipped from his lips before he could register them. “Oh come on, I never run too far. Not from you.” 

As soon as he said it, George recoiled, slipping from Dream’s grip and stumbling back. Dream looked like he’d been slapped. The memory washed over him like waves on a shore.

\-----

_ “Dream!” George shrieked, charging after the other man. “Get back here right now!”  _

_ The moon was bright above their heads, shining down and bathing the both of them in cool light. George felt untouchable, like a live wire. He simmered with unused energy as he followed Dream through the undergrowth, following the strangled laughing of the other.  _

_ “You’ll never catch me, George!” The other cried into the open night, drunk on the sheer euphoria of it all. Something had happened, he wasn’t sure what, but the two of them were dizzy with adrenaline and the other’s presence. “You’ll never take me alive!”  _

_ He caught him.  _

_ George’s chest collided with Dream’s back, and he sent the two of them falling to the ground, landing among the leaves and grass.  _

_ Dream was still laughing, eyes twinkling with delight and pretty lips stretched into the most beautiful smile. George sat on his chest, fingers splayed across it, panting a little bit. Dream didn’t even seem winded. Even as he watched, the blonde man reached around him and ran his fingers through his own hair, locking eyes and turning his grin into something more akin to a smirk.  _

_ “I caught you!” George crowed once he’d caught his breath, louder than he probably would have usually, but with Dream wiggling happily under him and nothing but the moon watching the two of them, he felt freer than he’d ever been. “I finally caught you!”  _

_ Dream just scoffed fondly. “Of course you caught me, it’s nighttime. Usually, you wouldn’t even be able to keep up.”  _

_ George pouted, but didn’t correct him. “Hmph,” he retaliated. _

_ “What is it?” Dream asked with a playful grin, his wandering hands coming to rest on his own chest now, fingers lacing with George’s splayed ones.  _

_ “You always run from me,” George replied. “And I can never catch you. Why do you always run from me?”  _

_ Another light laugh bubbled out of Dream, and George felt it underneath his fingers. “Oh come on, I never run too far. Not from you.” _

_ George just hummed in response, not addressing it and instead dropping down and shimmying himself until he was lying next to Dream in the grass, one hand still underneath the other man’s, gazing up at the stars.  _

_ He barely felt the kiss Dream pressed to his hairline, but his entire body tingled with the euphoria of it all.  _

_ “I run from most people,” Dream confessed, and George took a moment to study the way the moonlight danced on the slope of his nose. “But with you…” he let out a sigh, breathing out the words like a dirty confession. “maybe I finally want to be caught.”  _

——-

George felt lightheaded. “Woah,” he muttered, taking a step back. He felt disconnected from the memory, like he’d been watching from third person. Was that really him? Had he said those things? It didn’t feel like it. It felt like he was going to be sick. 

Dream was watching him with a mixture of alarm and worry.

Tubbo was at his side in an instant. “You alright there, Big Man?” 

George shook his head, though whether to clear it or to respond to Tubbo, he wasn’t sure. “I just… saw something.” 

“What’s wrong?” Dream said suspiciously, then, when George himself didn’t respond, to Tubbo, “What’s wrong with George?”

“Something went a little wrong with his sleep thing,” Tubbo replied, holding a hand up to George’s head. 

“Then fix it,” Dream gritted out, confusion and fear mixing and forming hostility. 

Tubbo just shook his head. “I already tried. Whatever this is is far beyond me.” 

George winced, clearing the black spots creeping on the corners of his vision. “Okay, I’m good,” he said softly to Tubbo, who just cocked an eyebrow at him. “No, really.”

“George,” Dream said, “what’s wrong?”

“I really wouldn’t-“ Tubbo was once more ignored.

Biting his lip in discomfort, George glanced over at the other boy. “I don’t know who you are,” he finally settled on, but before he could focus on the hurt in Dream’s eyes, he steamrolled on. “I don’t know who Tubbo is, or Tommy, or anyone else you could possibly ask me about. All I know is that I woke up in a strange bed this morning, with you sleeping next to me.” 

Dream looked at him, horror stricken. “So you…” 

“I’m sorry,” George breathed out, “I don’t remember anything.” 

Dream choked out a small noise of disbelief. “How?” 

George regarded him with a certain softness. He clearly used to think fondly of the other man, even if he felt nothing but hollow confusion now. Call it common decency, but he didn’t have it in him to reply with a snarky response. Dream clearly needed time to get through this emotional turmoil, if the wounded look in his eyes was any indication. “If I knew anything about how, I would tell you,” he settled on, frowning a little. 

The blonde nodded mutely as a show of acceptance, hands shaking slightly. George felt a strange urge to grab them and steady them with his own, less so for comfort and more so out of muscle memory. 

Tubbo bit his lip. “We’ll leave you two alone then,” he said. 

“What?” George snapped his head around to look at him. “You’re leaving?” 

“We’re leaving?” Tommy echoed him, confused. 

“We’re leaving,” Tubbo confirmed, staring George dead in the eyes. “You can trust him, I promise.” 

George glanced over at Dream, who was staring into space, clearly still processing, before giving Tubbo one last look. The other boy gave him a reassuring smile. “Okay.”  _ I’m trusting you on this.  _

Tubbo dragged Tommy away, though not without protest. The blonde was muttering something under his breath the entire walk away, but Tubbo’s grip on his wrist was tight, and their figures eventually receded into the darkness. A sense of unease overtook George.  _ There’s only one person I’ve been reacquainted with so far and I’m watching him walk away. _

He turned back to Dream with a small huff, masking his nervous energy. Tubbo clearly wanted the two of them to talk alone. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know. You could have gone with them. I can figure things out from here.”  _ Probably. _

Dream still looked physically and emotionally destroyed, but he spared enough energy to cock an eyebrow in George’s direction. “Oh yeah? Which direction to your house?” 

George bit his lip.  _ Crap.  _ “This way,” he declared with as much confidence as possible, pointing in a random direction and beginning to walk in it. 

Dream laughed at that, tentative but amused. He followed, running to catch up and walking side by side with George. “Trick question. You don’t have a house anymore. You usually just crash with whoever’s closest.” 

“That’s not fair!” George shot back at him. “How was I supposed to know that?” 

He wasn’t graced with a response. Dream was studying him, the other man’s gaze sending nervous prickles down his spine. He said nothing, just continuing to look at him with those same big, sad eyes. 

“You know,” George said carefully, “You’re a lot less fun than Tubbo. I don’t think I like this very much.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t like me,” Dream replied through gritted teeth. “You never enjoyed anything you couldn't understand.”

George frowned. Dream’s tone had changed in an instant, hostility lacing his words like poison. “Excuse me?” 

“I know you, you don’t like to deal with emotions, difficult puzzles, things you don’t understand. You don’t want to talk to me because you don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I understand just fine, thank you,” George replied with a clipped tone. 

“Bullshit. How can you understand this if you don’t even  _ remember  _ why we’re like this? I bet you don’t even want to get better.” 

George’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not  _ sick,  _ Dream. I don’t need to get better.” 

“You don’t remember anything! Anything at all! You’re seriously telling me you don’t want your memories back?” 

“They’re not my memories, okay?” George felt the bubbling sensation of fear in his throat, thinking back to his first flashback. He had felt so much emotion all at once, and he still felt none of it. “That wasn’t me! I don’t know who you think I am, but that’s not me right now!” 

“Why don’t you even want to try and get them back?” Dream asked, his tone shifting from angry to desperate. 

_ I’m scared of what I’ll find.  _ George gave a bitter laugh. “What’s so important I need to remember it?” 

“Me,” Dream replied, his voice breaking a little. 

George bit his lip, coming to a stop in front of a bench overlooking a valley. A large oak tree overshadowed the bench, leaves tinted shades of orange and red. “I don’t know how to explain to you how little that means to me.”  _ More than nothing, less than everything.  _

“Will you at least try?” Dream begged him, also stopping, trailing a hand across the wooden back of the bench. 

“For you?” George replied with a small eye roll. 

“No,” Dream replied, “For you.” 

_ Bullshit.  _ George pursed his lips. “Who was I to you?” 

“What do you mean?” Dream asked him. 

George tilted his head up to look at the moon. “You look at me like I’m shattering your entire world. Who do you think I am? Why do you want him back so much?” 

Dream just laughed, soft and wet. Unshed tears glittered on his eyelashes as he mirrored George, tilting his head up to the moon. Something told George that they never stayed mad at each other for long. “You’re not shattering my entire world, George, you are my entire world.” His knuckles were white on the bench. “Out of everyone in this big, stupid realm, I’ve known you the longest. We were the first two of our kind, not human enough to exist in the village, not beast enough to roam the woods untouched. You were my support through everything, and I was yours. We founded this kingdom together.” 

George looked over at him. “Tell me about it.” 

And Dream did. “There were eight of us, in the very beginning. The other six found us over the course of a month; Sapnap, Callahan, Alyssa, Sam, Ponk, and Bad. We formed what was the beginning of all of this.” 

“Where are they now?” George asked him. 

Dream looked pained. “Gone, some of them. Alyssa went out to discover her own way, we never heard from her again. Callahan’s been missing in action for years now. We hear rumors about Ponk every couple of millenia. He’s still out there, still doing good.” 

“Sounds like a sad story,” George commented, watching the way Dream seemed to fold in on himself talking about his lost friends. 

“It’s not all bad,” the other boy replied. “Some of us are still here, still kicking. Sam built most of the buildings around us. I don’t think he’s going anywhere any time soon. Bad is still recovering from the crimson, even all these years later, but he’s as chipper as ever. As for Sapnap…” Dream smiled. “Sapnap’s my best friend.” 

“And where does that leave me?” George asked him softly. 

Dream hummed thoughtfully. “Something more. Nothing more. That’s up to you. That’s always been up to you.” 

George mulled it over. “Can I meet them?” he asked. 

“Who?” 

Good question. “Sapnap,” he finally decided. “The village I woke up in worshipped him.” 

Dream cracked a grin at that. “Yeah, he’s an incredible warrior.”

“Funny enough, I think I already knew that,” George teased lightly, testing the waters. “Maybe the giant commemorative statue gave it away.” 

Dream spared him a fond look. The two of them sat in silence for a while, unsure of what to say, if they should even say anything at all. 

It was a lot, if he was being honest. When he’d woken up, George had known that  _ something _ was off. The time he spent awake only confirmed that fact, overwhelming him with sights and people and feelings he felt couldn’t quite recognize. He’d had nothing, not a single thing past his own damn name and the sense that he was out of place. He’d had nothing, and then he’d had someone else’s memory thrust upon him, fond moments with a green eyed enigma he’d never seen before. The George in those moments seemed content, to say the least. He was sure of who he was and he knew where he belonged. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you earlier. I just miss him- you, a lot.”

George hummed in response, near silent acceptance. 

_ I’m not him, but do I even want to be?  _ George’s stomach twisted. As strange as it sounded, he didn’t want to lose himself. The only constant in his remembered life so far was that he didn’t know where he belonged, and if he lost that, what would be left?  _ Maybe more, maybe less.  _ He wasn’t sure if that was a risk he was willing to take. 

“Tell me more about him,” George finally said, cutting through the muddy silence between them. “You told me who he was to you, but who was he?” The brunet swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “Who was I?” The words sounded wrong in his mouth. Those were another’s memories, another’s lifetime. He felt like he was intruding. 

Dream looked over at him, a sad sort of smile drifting across his face. “You want me to talk about who you were?” 

George nodded. 

Running his fingers through his wavy hair, Dream sighed. “You like to be right. You and Sapnap are always arguing over one thing or another, and you always find some way to drag me into it. You’re stubborn and bratty and whiny when you don’t get your way, until someone caves and lets you do whatever you wanted to do originally.” Dream laughed a little, correcting himself. “You’re only whiny because you know I’ll fix whatever you want me to.”

George frowned. He didn’t like himself already. 

“But that’s not all,” Dream continued, not even really focused on George by now, off in his own world. “You’re passionate and driven and one of the funniest people I know, when you want to be. You know who you are and what you stand for, and when you actually try, you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. It’s part of what makes you so easy to-” 

George blinked. Dream had cut himself off, biting his lip so harshly he wouldn’t be surprised if the blonde had drawn blood. 

“You’re loyal almost to a fault, and you don’t like meeting new people very much. You have a habit of sleeping late on weekdays, and you’re a cuddler when you’re unconscious, even if you’re not much for it when you’re awake. You like wildflowers that bloom under moonlight, and you’re a better shot with a bow than anyone else I know.” Dream paused for a moment to think. “You have a habit of losing gifts, and rediscovering them mysteriously once they’ve been replaced.” 

There was silence between them again, that same, suffocating silence. “That sounds nice,” George finally admitted, frowning again. Disappointment coursing through him. 

“You’re unhappy.” Dream didn’t ask him, he just stated it, like he could read George like an open book.

“Am I really that transparent?” he asked the blonde. 

Dream laughed. “Only to me. You’re notoriously difficult to get a read on. Why are you unhappy?” 

“Dunno,” George muttered. “Thought I might feel something if you told me about who he was.” 

“George,” Dream replied, frowning, and it tugged at something inside of him. The word felt wrong, like Dream meant it for someone else. 

“Stop,” George cut him off. “Why do you say my name like that?” 

“I’ve always said your name like that.” 

“No, you’ve always said  _ his  _ name like that,” George replied, reminding him. “I’m not him. I can’t be him.” 

“You-” Dream bit his lip again. 

“I may share his face, but I still don’t know who he  _ is,” _ George hissed out. “I think you need to remember that. I don’t know who I am, only who you want me to be. And that’s just too much right now.” 

“George-!” Dream called out, but he was already turning, escaping, fleeing from the situation he couldn’t understand and didn’t really want to.

“You can’t expect me to meet the standards you’ve set for someone else, Dream.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a·maz·ing /əˈmāziNG/  
> adjective  
> 1\. causing great surprise or wonder; astonishing.  
> 2\. My readers <3 <3 <3
> 
> Please, drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, and make sure to take care of yourselves!


	3. Sapnap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the wait, but I'm finally back! I wrapped up You'll Always Be Mine, and Seven Days Till Sunlight, and THEN took a short break after that! So hopefully I can focus most/all of my efforts now on this story for you guys! I have a lot of cool stuff planned, and I hope you guys are as excited to see it as I am to show it! 
> 
> This is more of a filler chapter, and I toyed with it for ages before finally giving up and just posting it lol, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy! :)

_ Swirling stars and sparkling moonlight filled his vision. He was drifting… floating and falling and flying all at once. The space around him was infinite, a soft cushion, a silk scarf wrapped around his shoulders. It felt like everything and nothing at once, and finally, he felt at peace.  _

_ George was drifting through space and time and thought all in one. He reached out an arm, curiosity sparking. His pale freckles glinted like tiny stars in the vast cosmos. The outline of his wrist seemed fuzzy, almost like he wasn’t really there. That was a stupid thought. Wherever he was right now, it was obvious he wasn’t really there.  _

_ The stars were moving, bobbing closer and further, growing and shrinking, always glowing with that same, comforting light. George reached out without a second thought, grabbing the one closest to himself and gasping at the warmth in his fingertips. It raced through his entire body, the phantom tingle burning as a vision swam before his eyes.  _

_ Dinner at a long oak table, laughing with friends, dancing under the mistletoe and leaning in close, tucking his body against another and laughing in sheer delight. Poking fun at a man with brown eyes and dark hair, watching him wrap his arms around two shorter brunettes. Shoving himself playfully away from a boy with a green jacket, but letting himself be tugged right back with no resistance whatsoever. Pine trees and tinsel, eggnog and roasted chicken.  _

_ He surfaced from the tainted memory gasping for breath, shivering with the sudden cold. The space around him echoed with his wheezing, rebounding the noise. “No,” he whispered, the word feeling like ripples over a lake surface. He wrapped his arms around himself, whispering his thoughts aloud. There was no difference here anyway, aloud and in your head were one and the same. “Who are you? Where did you go?”  _

_ “You already know that.”  _

_ George turned to face himself, eyes giving the boy across him a quick once-over. The chocolate eyed boy smiled his smile at him, if a little brighter. The stars on his cheeks shined a little brighter, and he carried himself with a purpose George couldn’t seem to find.  _

_ “Who are you?” he demanded again, crossing his arms defensively. “What are you doing here?”  _

_ His other self just smiled, fingers dancing across the sparkles in his skin. “You already know who I am, George. You just need to admit it to yourself.” The stars glowed brighter around him, dragging themselves in like that boy was their center. His brown hair swayed slightly in nonexistent wind. _

_ “I don’t want to,” George replied through gritted teeth, batting at one of the stars as it got too close. Another flash greeted him, this time of the flash of battle, sharp stones digging into his back, hands flashing as they rose to the sky, palms shaking. He hissed.  _

_ His other self rolled their eyes. “Why not?”  _

_ “I-” George hesitated. “I don’t think I want to. It’s better this way, isn’t it?”  _

_ His other self hummed, collecting the stars in cupped hands. They drizzled through his ivory fingers. “I don’t know, is it?” he asked, a sad sort of smile on his face.  _

George awoke with a strangled scream. 

“Big man, hey!” Tommy was by his side in a second, looking alarmed and a little nervous. 

“Where am I?” George groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking sleep from them. His entire body was shaking, trembling with exertion. 

“You crashed with me and Tubbo last night,” Tommy explained, gesturing to the dirt walls around them. “Welcome to my humble abode!” 

George glanced around. The dirt was crumbling around them, and the stability of the structure was questionable at best. A cockroach scuttled across the floor, a little too close for comfort. “You live here.” 

“Well,” Tommy said sheepishly, “I haven’t really lived here in a while.” 

“Same,” Tubbo chimed in, walking up the stairs. “No offense, Tommy, but this place has kind of gone to shit. I think you have a biohazard growing in your bathroom.” 

Tommy made a face. “Just leave him be. We won’t be here for long.” 

George’s head was still spinning, memories that had felt so close to him in sleep fading away into pleasant nothingness. He addressed Tubbo. “I’m assuming he built this… house himself?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy snapped, but Tubbo was laughing, passing George a small loaf of bread. He accepted it with a grateful smile. 

“It means that you look like a shit builder, Tommy.” Tubbo cracked a lopsided grin. 

The blonde teen pulled out a golden apple, taking one bite before setting it on the dusty table in front of him. George winced, hoping he wouldn’t pick it up again. “Whatever.” He looked up, making direct eye contact with George. “So. You and Big D are fighting again.” 

“We’re not-” George paused. “Again?” 

Tommy snickered. “Well, you don’t usually fight so much as gaze into one another’s eyes with smoldering passion and pretend to hate one another for a couple of hours.” 

“Does-” George frowned, “Does that usually work?” 

“Well, Dream usually caves first,” Tubbo tacked on, “So technically, for you, yeah.” 

George let out a small huff.

“I think he’s a little shell shocked you actually walked away from him,” Tommy added on. “You two are like, physically attached at the waist. Caught him moping around outside last night, poor bloke.”

“What did you even tell him yesterday?” Tubbo asked, curiosity lacing his words. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, George sighed. “I told him I didn’t want my memories back.” 

“What the fuck? Why would you even say that? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, Gogy?” Tommy immediately exploded, but Tubbo just nudged him lightly. 

The short teen’s eyes were wide and brown. “Do you really mean it?” he asked. 

George stared at the younger boy. “I did at the time, yeah,” he replied carefully. “He kept taking and I didn’t have any more to give. I had to take a step back.”

“But you changed your mind,” Tubbo replied, sounding secure in his guess. 

George hesitated. “Yes. Probably.” 

“It’s been like ten hours man, what changed?” Tommy asked him.

He just bit his lip, tracing the wooden grain of the table. “It’s dumb.” 

“Knowing you, it really isn’t,” Tubbo said. “Confusing, but not dumb.” 

“Okay then. I had a dream,” George admitted. 

“Ah,” Tommy nodded wisely. “Your  _ thing _ .” 

“And what did it tell you?” Tubbo pressed, looking hopeful. 

He hesitated. “Not much, honestly.”  _ Nothing I didn’t already know.  _ “What do they tell me?” 

“They’re premonitions, for the most part. Flashes of things yet to come.” The horned boy shrugged helplessly. “You don’t usually tell us much.” 

George ran his fingers through his short hair. “I’m beginning to hate my past self.” 

“Welcome to the team,” Tommy said dryly. “You’re a right bitch.” 

“Great.” George sighed. “This is really giving me the incentive I need to rediscover myself.” 

Silence greeted his words. 

Finally, after a moment too long, Tubbo whispered hopefully, “Is it really, though?” 

_ “It’s better this way.”  _

_ “Is it?”  _

After a gut wrenching moment, his shoulders sagged. “Fine,” George sighed. “Yes. Definitely. I want to figure out who I am.” 

“Yes!” Tommy hissed out, pumping his fist excitedly. 

“What comes now?” George asked him, cocking his head. 

“Luckily for you, the two of us know exactly who can help!” Tubbo said with a cheer, ripping another chunk of his bread off with a toss of his head, grinning wildly. 

“Yeah!” Tommy agreed.

“Great!” George tried to let the enthusiasm show in his voice. “Who is it then?” He took a final bite from his bread, watching the twin grins of the teens. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy replied with excitement, at the exact same time that Tubbo cheered-

“Ranboo!” 

George looked between the two boys, examining the disconnect with furrowed brows. For the first time all morning, Tommy’s expression faded past neutral into distaste, and Tubbo’s bright grin faltered. “Who?” he asked them. 

“Of course  _ you’d _ want to go see Ranboo,” Tommy replied with an eye roll, ignoring his question completely in favor of talking to Tubbo. 

“What does that mean, of course I’d want to see him?” Tubbo asked, cocking an eyebrow defensively. “You chose  _ Wilbur, _ of all people! And you’re going to disapprove of my idea?” 

“I’m just saying, this is the first time I’m back here with you guys in literal months, and the first thing you want to do is go seek out your-”

“Oh, really? That’s rich, Tommy. I haven’t seen either of you in ages, but you didn’t see me run off and try and find him the second you popped up! I miss both of you equally, we discussed this!” 

The two boy’s voices rose as they bickered, and George bit his lip uncomfortably, doing his best to follow the conversation. 

“No we did not discuss this! You discussed this while I listened!” 

“And you both left without discussing shit with me, don’t give me that!” 

“You had the option to come with us!” 

“No, Tommy!” Tubbo hissed out angrily, “No I really didn’t!  _ They  _ all hate me!” 

“Is this like a personal thing?” George asked the open air, biting his lip. “Should I just… go?” 

Neither of them answered him, too caught up in their argument. 

“We don’t hate you, Tubbo,” Tommy replied, but his tone was less consoling and more angry. 

“Techno hates me. Phil hates me. Wilbur doesn’t even fucking remember me.” 

Tommy glared at him. “That’s not his fault.” 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go,” George said awkwardly, but the two of them just kept bickering, voices swelling until they filled the entire hut. Backing out of the doorway, if it could even be called that, George let out a harsh breath in the fresh air. 

“Yeah, that seems like a bit of a personal issue,” a new voice interrupted his thinking. “They’ll be at it for ages, probably best that you ducked out.” There was a small pause. “Quack quack.” 

Startling, George turned, taking in the features of the man leaning against the dirt shack. He had a scruffy beard, longish black hair pulled back into little buns, and mirthful brown eyes. His white shirt seemed slightly singed, and a fond smile graced the corner of his lips. 

“The hero from the village,” George guessed, using context clues, “Sapnap.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Sapnap replied with a small smirk. “Hiya, George.” 

“I trust you’ve heard about my situation.” 

“Dream gave me the rundown,” Sapnap replied with a small nod. “I got the gist of it.”

“Oh,” George replied, “Well if  _ Dream  _ gave you the rundown...” 

“He means well. You know that, right?” Sapnap said with a small smile. 

“I can infer as much,” George replied. “It would be nice if he cared a little less.” 

Sapnap just laughed. “Dream doesn’t half ass anything, especially not when it comes to you.” 

“Yeah, I inferred that much as well.”

He got a frown for that, along with a topic change. “So you really don’t remember any of us then, huh?” 

“You know, I’m getting really tired of answering that,” he replied, matching the frown. “It gets old quick.” 

Sapnap winced a little, looking him up and down. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. So,” George continued dryly, “Who was I to  _ you _ then?” 

“You were a pain in my ass, that’s what you were,” Sapnap replied without missing a beat. The corners of his eyes crinkled fondly. “Like, I can’t even begin to explain to you just how much of a stubborn asshole you were-” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” George said with a grin. Sapnap’s energy was infectious. “We didn’t get along.” 

Sapnap’s smile faltered at that. “You were one of my best friends, George. I know I gave you a lot of shit, but I was closer to you than almost anyone else.” 

“Right,” George replied, discomfort prickling down his neck. “Of course. How could I forget that?” The words came out less of a playful barb and more of an accusation. 

Sapnap winced. The silence between them stretched to the point of unease. 

“Sorry,” George finally offered, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “I seem to be messing up a lot recently.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sapnap brushed it off. The words seemed to sit in his mouth all wrong. 

George just huffed again. “Sorry.” 

“Stop it,” Sapnap restated, shaking his head. “You don’t apologize, okay? We don’t apologize to each other unless we really need to.” 

“Right.” 

They settled into uncomfortable silence again. 

“So,” George said. “What brings you here?” 

“Other than seeing you?” Sapnap cracked a small grin. “Visiting my son.” 

George looked him up and down, confused. Sapnap looked nothing like either of the boys he had met so far, but the color of his hair was closer to Tubbo’s than Tommy’s golden locks. “Tubbo,” he guessed. 

Sapnap nodded. “We were supposed to go hunting today, but somehow I think that plan got a bit derailed.” 

A small laugh bubbled out of him. “I assume he takes after his mother, then?” George asked, gesturing to where Tubbo’s horns would rest on his head. 

“Nope!” Sapnap replied cheerfully. “Actually, he takes after his father.” 

“What?” George asked. 

“Well, not the one I’m engaged to, but still.” 

_ “What?”  _

“Dad?” 

They both turned around. Tubbo stood in the doorway to Tommy’s shack, looking alarmed. 

“Hey, Tubbo!” Sapnap grinned widely at the startled teen. “I’m assuming we’ll have to rain check our plans for the day then.” 

Realization flashed across Tubbo’s face. “Oh, fuck!” 

Sapnap just laughed and waved him off. “No worries, this is clearly more pressing. I’ll just go bother your Pops then. He might have some idea of what to do with our George situation. You know, with the whole memory thing.” 

Tommy popped his head around the corner. “We were going to visit Wilbur,” he replied. 

Sapnap nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. “That’s a good idea. Have you considered Ranboo as well?” 

“Yes,” Tubbo replied, with a pointed look at his best friend. “We were going to visit Wilbur first, and then Ranboo if we still needed to.” 

“That’s a good idea, boys,” Sapnap replied, giving them a pointed look. “Both of them are good ideas.” 

“Of course,” Tommy ducked his head apologetically. 

“We worked it out, Dad,” Tubbo muttered. 

“Great. So you two go take George to Wilbur, and I’ll go talk to Karl, okay? We can speedrun this shit.” 

“Speedrun,” George muttered, unsure of why he wanted to insert himself into the conversation. 

“Yup.” Sapnap directed his attention back to his son. “So your Pops and I will be back at Kinoko Kingdom if you need us, okay?” 

“Great.” Tubbo nodded. “And where’s Padre right about now?” 

Sapnap made a half shrugging motion. “Probably off establishing his capitalist reign again. He’s been big on that recently. We’ll see him within the week for sure.” 

George made a confused noise in the back of his throat. “Wait, which one of these fathers does Tubbo take after?” 

“Oh, neither of them!” Tubbo replied with a laugh, waving off George’s questions with a lazy arm. 

“We’ll catch up later,” Sapnap promised him, messing up the young boy’s already messy hair with minimal protest. “See you around, George! Don’t come back and find me until you remember what a bitch you are!” 

“I-” George watched the other man retreat, throwing a casual wave back at them as he sauntered away. “What the fuck just happened…” 

“That’s Sapnap for you!” Tubbo said cheerfully. 

“I don’t think that man could be serious if he tried,” Tommy agreed, before rubbing his hands together. “Alright, George, are you ready to discover who you truly are inside?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the disclaimer that Tubbo and Ranboo's marriage is completely platonic and that the Karl/Sapnap/Quackity relationship in here is technically going to be romantic since that's in the canon of the SMP, but won't be focusing in on the romantic aspects (kissing etc) of it as much as I will the general just the three of them caring about each other excessively. I'm not sure on some of their boundaries when it comes to fanfic, and I don't want to upset anyone, even if I'm writing it about their characters, not them as themselves! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked the first chapter! Just so you know, this is kind of second fiddle to my other long SMP work right now, You'll Always Be Mine. With that wrapping up soon though, the plan is to slide pretty smoothly from writing one from the other. If you liked this, please leave a kudos or comment, I adore hearing what others think about my work, and answering questions! :)
> 
> Hope you all are staying safe out there!! <3


End file.
